


The Servant

by Eggplantssandpeachess



Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: 18th Century, Alpha Hannibal Lecter, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Alternate Universe - Historical, Arranged Marriage, Extremely Dubious Consent, Historical Inaccuracy, M/M, Omega Will Graham, POV First Person
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-07-20
Updated: 2020-01-26
Packaged: 2020-07-09 13:01:24
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 5
Words: 9,618
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19888252
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Eggplantssandpeachess/pseuds/Eggplantssandpeachess
Summary: Will Graham, a rare male omega is sent to live with his new husband Lord Anthony Dimmond. In exchange for his hand in marrige Will can put to rest his worries regarding his mother.Will concedes to play the part, until that is, he meets his husband's servant, Hannibal.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Just a drabble I wrote while I was watching Harlots, wanted to have a go at writing first person. I did little research so bare with me

There was very little an Omega could do in a world ruled by Alphas. In His wisdom, with all His glory and kindness, the almighty had chosen to give me that fate. I could have had worse, my mother told me, but that was the same saying I often heard from people who had little power to wield over their lives. 

  
  


I was betrothed to an Alpha Lord who had riches beyond imagine. Fortune made from fortunate ancestry, and pockets made deeper from prospects in the New World. The marriage couldn't have happened quick enough since my father had passed and my mother in turn had inherited his debt to grieve upon. My mother said it was a blessing, but I say blessings and disease came from the same place. 

  
  


By spring I was wedded and today I was to leave my home and live with the man I would forever call my husband. 

  
  


"Will, my sweet," My mother held my face so closely I could see the veins in her eyes. She was tired, worried and I felt them all in equal measure. "You do everything Lord Dimmond says, do you understand?" 

  
  


I nodded. 

  
  


"He is generous, but he is frivolous with his belongings. But you my dear, you will be kept and you will make sure you are." She kissed my crown and embraced me like it was the last time she would see me. I would have cried but I was ushered into the coach before I could. The horses sent by Lord Dimmond were well fed and they carried me away without delay. 

  
  
  


By late afternoon I grew weary of the rock and tumble of the carriage. I arrived in London with nothing but the clothes I wore. The stench was strong and the noise was loud. The city was busy, filled with more people than I had ever seen. I peered out of the window and to my relief I had reached my destination. 

  
  
  


Mayfair was a sight to behold. The houses there stood tall, clean without any speck, their structure a sign of wealth that ignored the plight of the rest of the congested city. I entered the building which on closer inspection could only be described as a gilded cage and I stiffened as the door was shut behind me. 

  
  
  


Inside I was greeted by a maid of beauty. "My lord," She curtsied. "Lord Dimmond is away attending to business, he will return soon." 

  
  
  


"Thank you, and you are?" 

  
  
  


"Alana Bloom, m'lord." She looked at me with veiled sympathy and I turned away in feigned ignorance. 

  
  
  


Miss Bloom showed me to the master bedroom and I wondered whether I would have my own quarters. I queried as such but she informed me otherwise. 

  
  
  


"The lord of the house would like you to stay in the Master bedroom with him." She said before exiting. When she returned she carried with her a number of clothing articles and brought them to my attention. They were of high quality, better than anything mother could only dream of to make for me. Luxurious materials from far away lands dyed in colours I had once seen in a beautiful painting.

  
  
  


"These are for you to wear from now on. Lord Dimmond had asked me to dress you in the dark blue assemble." 

  
  


The clothes, or uniform if you will, had a fit that pinched my bodice. Tight in areas where I would have thought inefficient for physical activity. But I had little opportunity for that now. 

  
  
  


Lord Dimmond returned late in the hour. He found me in the bedroom chamber and entered with his servant following closely behind him. 

  
  


He wedged himself into my personal space and kissed both my cheeks. "Will! My little omega, you are a sight for sore eyes. Apologies for not being able to be here on your arrival, I had some business to take care of. Being married does not come cheap, hopeless for most Alphas especially when dealing with an Omega, but not I." He winked at me. 

  
  


"That is no trouble Lord Dimmond, and thank you." I said. "The clothes you bought for me are lovely." I brushed away an unseen piece of lint and conjured my warmest smile. 

  
  


"You are so polite Will, so very good, don't you think Hannibal?" Lord Dimmond commented. 

  
  


At this point I was reminded of the other presence in the room. So silent was Lord Dimmond's manservant that I had nearly forgotten. The servant, Hannibal his name was, came forward into my line of sight to introduce himself. The gentleman was not as tall as Lord Dimmond but his figure made him seem much, much larger. He was older too with hair uncommitted to a single tone. There I spotted blondes and browns sprinkled generously with a dash of salt and pepper. A waft of the servant's scent allowed me to ascertain that he was an Alpha as well. 

  
  


"Yes sir, he is a fine Omega, a perfect spouse." Said Hannibal evenly. 

  
  


The sound of his words knitted my brows for the calm did not reach his eyes. I realised too soon my mistake when my attention was suddenly captured by the maroon orbs staring intently into my very being. I felt uneasy, feverish under my clothes. 

  
  


"Right, Hannibal could you remove Will's clothes and fetch the oil?" 

  
  


"Yes, sir." Hannibal replied. 

  
  


"M-my clothes? I assure you, my lord, I have my virtue still intact. We were married not a week ago--" 

  
  


"Hush my Omega, it is standard procedure." Lord Dimmond smiled. "We will consummate our marriage tonight." 

  
  


I swallowed and found my sight on Hannibal, who, in short strides found his way so close to my person I could feel his heat. The man ran like a furnace, conjuring within my mind the vision of a warm sanctuary in the dead of winter. 

  
  


Lord Dimmond announced his leave to freshen up and I was left alone with his alpha servant. 

  
  


"Breathe." The servant advised.

  
  


I nearly jumped when I heard the deep rasping tone. Hannibal's large hands had found themselves upon my shoulders pressing a comforting weight before gliding along my flanks. I began to fidget as my cravat was loosened. Thereafter the buttons of my waistcoat were undone swiftly with agile motions. 

  
  


The servant knelt before me and soon my breeches came to rest on his forearm. I hastily removed my own shirt and resigned myself to feel small and transparent. 

  
  
  


Hannibal stood and looked at me, at all of me. "As a Male Omega your scent is very faint, but my sense of smell is better than the average Alpha." He whispered. "You are simply lovely." 

  
  
  


I blinked and looked down. I was terrified because I knew the sensations in my body were far from ordinary. I had never been aroused before but now I knew without a doubt what it was that pervaded my earthly flesh. I recoiled from the onslaught, horrified by the throb that pulsed unrestrained from deep in my loins. 

  
  
  


When Lord Dimmond returned Hannibal stepped swiftly away and procured the oil. 

  
  
  


"Shall I rub the oil in, my Lord?" Hannibal asked, quite innocently.

  
  
  


"No, no Hannibal, I will have to get my hands dirty, my first duty as husband," He said, amused. 

  
  
  


Hannibal nodded and poured a generous amount of oil into Lord Dimmond's palms. Rubbing his hands together, Lord Dimmond wasted no time to feel my skin all over. 

  
  


The oil's scent was strong. Sweet like a garden and luscious like exotic fruit. 

  
  
  


Lord Dimmond rubbed along my back and down towards my buttocks. He spent some time there before roving to the place between my legs. Lastly, my chest was given some attention but Lord Dimmond did not seem too interested in its smooth plane.

  
  
  


"It smells divine, doesn't it?" He asked as he fondled my member. My eyes were shut tight but I opened them to peer in any direction other than my husband. The roof seemed much more pleasant, even the hardwood floor. I endeavoured to think of nothing until my distracted eyes landed upon the manservant standing poised across the room. Over my husband's shoulder I dared to look. 

  
  
  


"This oil imitates the scent of an aroused Omega, since you have no scent I bought it specifically for you. It is unseemly for an alpha to mount without the right sort of scent." Said Lord Dimmond. 

  
  
  


Hannibal stood placidly, his stance at ease still holding on to my clothes in the crook of his arm. The servant had no shame, while his master was distracted, Hannibal was intent on returning my looks. Like a hot flame those eyes licked my naked body far more effectively than any of my husband's machinations.

  
  
  


"Aha!" Lord Dimmond exclaimed. He had found my entry and discovered its vast wetness. "My, my Will, you seem so eager for me," He chuckled.

  
  
  


Enthralled as I was by the servant's eyes I briefly found reprieve to look where my husband stood in front of me. Lord Dimmond's fingers moved in and out producing lewd sounds which only encouraged him more.

  
  
  


"You want me don't you Will?" Lord Dimmond asked as he snaked his arm around my waist. His lips found my neck and he began to pepper the skin there with kisses. "I paid your family's debts, all is well my dear, you must be so grateful, hmm?" 

  
  
  


Gasping, I found my eyes once again to the other figure still standing in the room. My voice appeared to be lost but when Hannibal nodded at me I mirrored the motion and answered with a breathy 'yes'. 

  
  
  


My husband seemed elated by my answer and in his growing excitement pushed me to the wall, effectively pinning me. He caged me against his chest, and unlike the rest, my lips remained pure, for now.

Lord Dimmond undid his own breeches hastily, lifting me with ease to connect our bodies. The action was delivered without warning, without comfort and I screamed in pain. It stung like a brand, vivid and permanent in my mind and in my spirit. In my audible agony Lord Dimmond did not care. He carried on, removing his Alphahood from my vessel only to plunge it deeper and deeper, again and again.

  
  
  


I held on for dear life and through my tears I saw as Hannibal twitched his lips in a silent snarl. I saw the teeth that hid beneath his mask. Sharp and dangerous like a starving wolf. But in a flash they were concealed and the servant returned to his tranquil expression. I grieved at the loss. 

  
  
  


Lord Dimmond grew tired of our position and desired me on his bed instead. He threw me on and mounted me like a beast, his gentle persona was long forgotten.

  
  
  


Unable as I was to see the servant my reality found its moment to finally pierce through my chest. A sob was ripped out of my lungs and I was left a hollow shell. 

  
  
  


When Lord Dimmond had finished he kissed my raw and aching crown. "Clean him up would you, Hannibal?" And then I was left alone again with nothing but sweat and semen and the servant.

  
  
  



	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Will continues his life in London

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for historical inaccuracies

Weeks have passed since my initial arrival and for a time I felt capable of rudimentary conditions of what accounted for as survival. But slowly, like the soot that fell from the sky, I emerged coated in a bilious constitution. 

  
  
  


My mind was compelled towards a sombre preoccupation, where in a humming madness had settled itself just beneath the surface of my withering consciousness. This severe disquietude would plague me incessantly, whispering to me unspeakable acts in which I fantasised my escape, hoping desperately for my return to freedom. 

  
  
  


I did not, however, act upon those fantasies. I followed my mother's advice devoutly, as I feared her life would fall into a plight of impoverishment if I were to ever hint at disagreement. 

  
  
  


Needless to say, there were countless moments where I had found myself absorbed, reminiscent of the life I had. Though fraught with wretched fortune, it was still that of which I could claim as my own. 

  
  
  


Before London and long before I was of marrying age, my previous life had been a simple one. It was pleasantly isolated, nary a hint of extravagance, yet prone to the encumbrance of acute hunger and insolvency. But surely it was worth the price of liberty? 

What I would give for the countryside and the luxury it had granted me. Truly a yearning of such tender sincerity for the home I had left behind. Nestled between mountains and hills, far away from the reach of the metropolis was the village of Wolftrap, the essence of which I could perfectly recall with a fierce vividness. It had been my sanctuary once, somewhere I would dream and ponder, but more often than not I would forgo such quintessential mental exercises in favour of peace. In Wolftrap each yesterday was thoroughly forgotten and every tomorrow was awash in unfettered gaiety. Life there would drift as naturally as the rivers that traversed through its misty landscape. A last bastion where lore and reality would blur like a ship on the far horizon.

Long ago when I was but a young boy there was one such lore made famous in the quaint little village; the last Wolf in England. A particular tale heralded with pride, but less have ventured into the forest in search of truth. Hunters, they say, fine Alphas of skill on horseback had killed the last of the beasts well before the time I had been swaddled in cotton. Considered as acts of bravery, despite the Wolf's great cunning and strength, they succeeded in freeing the farmers and their flock from the grips of the predator. 'We are safe', they declared and the consensus would gloat in taverns and markets, for now their sheep lived longer and their pigs grew fatter. But I would disagree. 

  
  
  


I had not always been so heedful of my mother's words, and as a small boy I would often dash carelessly into the wild untamed greenery, eager to find hidden streams full of fish to catch. I would wiggle my toes atop the moss that grew beneath my feet as my legs carried me towards the sound of water curling over rocks and fallen logs. And it was there that my woodland wanderings led me towards a contradictory discovery, one that I would take to my grave. Where others could not, I alone had seen with my very own eyes the last Wolf, for he had survived. And I must confess, I had hoped for that, as terrible as it may seem, I had hoped the beast would live to render all those complacent. Deep within the damp forest, where tall trees lived within an eerie reverie, I had witnessed its beauty and savagery, its grace and power, and I listened closely as the last Wolf in England beckoned me to surrender and wade into the quiet. 

  
  
  
  


.

.

.

  
  
  


I continued with stoic disposition and endured my fate as an Omega and as a spouse. Too quickly, I learnt that my husband, Lord Anthony Dimmond, had an insatiable appetite. The Alpha had a cruel streak reserved solely for me. He requested my flesh in near daily basis and vowed to bestow me the honour of carrying his progeny. I loathed each waking moment with the man. So shallow was the content of his character that I would likely find myself a better chance of drowning inside a pond than be taken by his superfluous company. 

  
  
  


"I want an Alpha babe," Lord Dimmond had told me as he stood by the dresser. He was occupied with the task of carefully removing the ugly powdered wig he wore. He had believed it to be the height of fashion and my nose crinkled at its supposed merit. "When your kind are properly bred it is a guarantee," He said as he sauntered towards the foot of our bed to peer at me. 

  
  
  


I turned my head away and laid prone, he undressed me and scrutinised me not unlike he would a piece of property, a tool. As a male and as an Omega it was invariably my destiny to become a member of a certain commodity. A rarefied specimen, invaluable, and thus coveted by those favouring an Alpha pedigree. 

  
  
  


"So it has been said," I replied, curbing my bite like a muzzled dog. 

  
  


My expression must have been poorly hidden since on his face there striped a nasty smile. Unkind and smug like he was amused I answered at all. "I received a letter from your dear mother yesterday," He said as he removed his own clothes. 

  
  
  


At the mention of my only blood relative I started. "M-mother? Is she well?" I was relegated to hear of her only through my husband's correspondence and he would share morsels of information like rationed charity whenever it took his fancy. Or perhaps, it was his intention to remind me of his power, the carrot dangled if you will, yet the stick was just as equally possible. Nevertheless, I listened closely. 

  
  
  


Lord Dimmond pouted in mock concern. "Of course my Omega, she is living well," he hushed. "Oh Will, her life is a comfortable one, her meals are warm, hunger is but an afterthought. Imagine her fate if it were not for my generosity, her needlework alone would fail to support both your lives… Unless, you could bear the thought of her turning to a Bawdy house or god forbid the auction of you, her only child, to one of those filthy Omega dens. Perish the thought, your fate and hers are safe with me."

  
  
  


My lips quivered as I accepted his empty words, not for their sincerity, but for its vision that I had hoped against hope was real. 

  
  
  


Suddenly, there were hands upon my thighs and a pointed force to separate their seal. I held a breath and waited upon my eventuality. My heart leapt into a quickening and I fought to remain lax. My husband then proceeded to take his joy while the bed creaked terribly, drumming into my skull the sound of a thousand oak trees dismembered from their native pastures. 

  
  
  


I had wished to sunder from my memory all manifestations of these vile moments, and given the opportunity, I would. But I could not, not for lack of aim, but for the singular spectator that would visit me time and time again. The chamber door that was ever so slightly ajar, yet within view of my vulnerable state, had failed to attract the attention of my busy husband. And I, knowing this, gave him no indication.

  
  


I could not discern shape nor form, but I was certain it was Hannibal, prowling silently like a beast beyond the threshold. His mere presence was an overwhelming influence. The very air had shifted, seemingly containing a certain energy I was receptive towards where in Hannibal was the radiant flame and I the beguiled moth. My skin would turn to gooseflesh under his scrutiny, shocking my nerves alight with a sudden bolt of thrill. What fascination the servant held for me I could only assume at the time was that of a sinister nature. Yet despite that knowledge, in sheer perverseness, I let him watch and I let him hear, just as he had on the very first night of my consummation.

  
  
  


Night after night as I lay on my back I would stare into that slivered darkness. I had imagined that our eyes had met, if not briefly, for an extended stretch of time. I would hear a rumbling snarl, or perhaps it was a wailing howl, loud and with definitive clarity, escape that sable abyss. Such haunting melody left me mesmerised, greedy for my undivided attention, a sound like a calling to court the creature I had harboured deep within my own being. Were they real? Or were they mere illusions? Lord Dimmond made no mention of these peculiar noises and I thought myself insane, truly mad, when I found myself desirous to answer in turn. I wanted to reach, to rip, to tear apart, but I held fast for I knew I should not. 

  
  
  


How could I have let him watch? I should tell my husband and throw the wicked servant out for his flagrant boldness. Yet when each night arrived Hannibal would be there and my lips would prove treacherously sealed. My acts hitherto had wholly disturbed me and I was determined to abjure the elements that were roused from far beyond my control. I sought to blame the city of London and the cage like pillars of this house in Mayfair. I was forcibly thrown from my noble path of quiet suffering into a predilection for a debauched avocation. I had become strange, I thought, no doubt twisted under the duress of my hopeless circumstance. But such grave inferences only further provoked my stubbornness to a fault, feeding steadily a cup already filled to the brim. 

  
  
  


Come morning, the sun had emerged, making paths through the many windows to shine light on every corner of my decorated enclosure. Currently, I sat by the dining table, silently regarding the fresh white bread served to me on fine bone china. Lord Dimmond was beside me reading the _ Times  _ while enthusiastically swallowing his last mouthful of kippers. 

  
  
  


"Hannibal!" He summoned.

  
  
  


The man entered promptly with a breeze and I stiffened considerably. My husband ordered the removal of his plates and Hannibal obliged accordingly with what must have been nerves of cold steel. His face was a glassy plane but far from fragile, it was impenetrable as he brushed past my periphery. During the day I was no longer so brazen, I did not dare to look directly into the Alpha's eyes and we occupied space like icebergs floating in the Atlantic. 

  
  
  


"What do you say?" Lord Dimmond broke my concentration and I leapt to respond. He looked at me offhandedly as he placed his paper down, he was unimpressed. "I said, there is an exhibition at the Strand displaying exotic beasts. What do you say?" 

  
  
  


"Pardon me my lord," I said apologetically. "W-will there be wolves?" I swallowed. "...I would like to see a Wolf." 

  
  
  


Lord Dimmond stared at me with a wrinkle between his brows. "Did they not teach you how to read?" He said haughtily, while he shoved the paper towards me.

  
  
  


I tucked my chin down to comprehend what he meant. Of course I knew how to read, I knew how to write, I even knew how to fish and how to gut it cleanly. 

  
  
  


"See here?" He tapped the paper impatiently. "These living productions are from the region of  _ South America, _ " My husband began to laugh as though I had told a clever jest. He shook with a terrible chortle that opened wide his mouth and showed the pink inside. "There are no wolves in  _ South America _ , there isn't even any wolves left in England, ha!" 

  
  
  


_ Tasteless _ . 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have too many WIPs :/ 
> 
> Ps. Watch Mindhunter its awesome


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Will is suddenly struck with a mysterious illness..

  
  
  


One day, I awoke alone in bed, or so I was led to believe. Perspiration clung heavily to my clothes and the surrounding sheets, so much so they were wet to the touch. I reached to wipe my brow but was startled when a hand came to rest upon my forehead. Towering over me was my husband's manservant.

  
  


"Where is Anthony?" I rasped, stiffening at his gentle touches. Rarely had I spoken to the manservant, and rarely would I call for his services. But here he was with a look of concern reserved only for such a person one would hold dear like a treasure. I did not believe in his kindness. 

  
  


"Lord Dimmond is away attending to a prior commitment…"

  
  


"At the coffee house? Lloyds?" 

  
  


"Out of the city. Paris I believe, he will return in some time provided there is good weather."

  
  


"Why on earth…" I scoffed, quite rudely, a well worn defence I would conjure in situations I found uncomfortable. My unfriendly tone drew no response from the servant and his expression remained skillfully in place. "Without you? His gentleman's gentleman no less...," My voice grew stronger but my body remained lethargic. I attempted to sit but was stopped immediately. 

  
  


"Master Will, you are feverish," Hannibal held my head, tilting my chin, inspecting my eyes with a proximity I felt was inappropriate. 

  
  
  


Involuntarily I shuddered. "Please, Mr. Lecter," I moved back, away from those large encapsulating hands. I refused to accept such unsolicited comforts. "I am fine. I've caught a cold, that's all." My face began to heat, I could feel the rush of blood to the surface of my pale complexion.

  
  
  


The servant's expression tightened but he voiced no offence and merely straightened his posture. "Your temperature is high, I will fetch you a basin and some water." 

  
  
  


I withered away from further contact with his eyes, heavy was his gaze with things we had shared under the cover of night. I would deny him whatever entertainment he gained from my circumstance. Hannibal was still a person of mystery in my eyes and any trust was beyond my means to freely give. 

  
  
  


At this point a knock at the door announced Miss Bloom's arrival. The maid looked frantic but she held her gaze longer on Hannibal. Her keen eyes were perceptive and she seemed to harden as she hurriedly found her place beside me.

  
  
  


Hannibal left after a small bow while Miss Bloom served the pot of Bohea that she had brought along with her. 

  
  


"What time is it? I've slept too late," I drank the warm liquid deeply and sighed. I uttered a mumbled ‘thank you’ and eyed her warily. 

  
  
  


"Don't you worry too much about that m'lord, you just rest for now," She assured. 

  
  
  


I looked at her and her large blue eyes. I could not confidently distinguish the reason for such deep concern, but I resisted the tendrils that preyed on my mind and left the issue to rest. Miss Bloom, Alana, she insisted I call her, seemed determined to hover around me and I felt as though there were words unspoken between us. 

  
  
  


Hannibal returned but Alana was quick to meet him by the threshold to take the basin. "I'll deal with this Hannibal, you go on now." She said. 

  
  
  


Alana removed my shirt and cleaned my skin with the damp linen, its cooling touch was a balm against my rising temperature. 

  
  
  


"Master Will, may I ask you a question?" 

  
  
  


I shuffled back into bed after she had redressed me, my body unsteady as it murmured a fine tremor. Alana tucked the blankets high to cover my shoulders. 

  
  
  
  


I nodded a wordless reply and watched as she shifted uneasily. Miss Alana Bloom was a kindly beta woman, a caring character so ample with sympathy I felt certain that there were times she had trespassed that murky line. Her sympathy I could tolerate, but her pity for me seemed to fuel my acerbity. A motherly presence was what she had wanted to portray, I believe, but I had a mother already and I did not need another. She viewed me a fragile Omega in need of protection and my guarded nature, I regret to say, did not take to her presumptions graciously. 

  
  
  
  


"How old are you?" She asked quietly.

  
  
  


I paused at this. "Nineteen, is there a particular reason for this?" My temple ached terribly, spreading fire to the back of my neck and down my backside. 

  
  
  


"Perhaps your fever is a sign, perhaps it is not sickness," 

  
  
  


"What are you suggesting Miss Bloom?" 

  
  
  


She fisted her apron, her lips were a tight line. "I suggest, m'lord, with all due respect, that I take care of you… Alone. Anything you need, I’ll come right away, m’lord." 

  
  
  


I frowned. Feeling petulant at her lack of clarity, I turned away. "Very well. Leave me." 

  
  
  


I closed my eyes at the sound of her fading steps. Presently, my grasp of analysis remained lost in the wake of my condition. Some time later she returned offering food and more tea, but I refused quite crudely and fled instead for the feeble sanctuary of sleep. 

  
  
  


.

.

.

  
  
  


When I next regained consciousness my breathing was laborious, my senses had escaped me and all that remained was delirium that threatened to take me under. What misfortune had befallen me now, I cursed, have I not had enough? I must have received plenty for several lifetimes over.

  
  
  


I could only assume that a considerable amount of time had passed when my hazy sight caught the single candle still alight on the bedside table. I could tell that a majority of its wax had melted away, as the flame flickered gently the last remnants of its wick. 

  
  
  


"You must eat." A voice came unbidden from the shadows. And if I were not so sickly I would have shouted my surprise.

  
  
  


The servant revealed himself within the soft glow of the only light available. I wondered when it was that he had entered my bedroom chamber for his steps were deftly silent. It was as though Hannibal had merged with the darkness, blanketed by it in such a way he could remain hidden for a lifetime. The sight unsettled me. 

  
  
  


My vision swam in a sickening tilt. Night had fallen and Hannibal was no longer beyond the entry at a safe distance, he was near and the revelation turned my mouth dry, I was suddenly parched. The servant, unaware of my agitation, proceeded to sit beside me and rinsed anew the linen that was used to cool my head. I writhed frantically beneath his presence. 

  
  


"I brought you a mild broth. I will lift you to a sitting position and then you will eat. I will not tolerate any less." He said firmly. The words spoken with such finality I failed to notice that I had not even considered to voice my protest. 

  
  
  


My eyes fluttered and suddenly I was enveloped within a warm embrace. Arms had reached around my torso, pressing my profile close unto the servant's chest. I inhaled deeply a curious scent of peppered fire and winter storm and I groaned in response. Whether it was in euphoria or discomfort I could not say, but too soon I was removed and gently placed against a height of pillows. 

  
  
  


"Where is Alana?" I believed I asked. "She told me to-to call on her, would you call her for me?...Please." But my questions were left unanswered. 

  
  
  


"I will open your mouth and feed you, and you will swallow," 

  
  
  


Without further instruction I felt a thumb enter my mouth, the pad of it rubbing across the flat of my tongue. The flavour saturated my taste buds and sparked a mighty crave within my belly, a sensation, though foreign, I did not find entirely disagreeable. It was a flavour which I would not fail to remember long after this experience and one I would later chase within my dreams. I could not, in good conscious, describe its most pleasant and intoxicating quality, but I knew that the taste suited my palate like no other before it. My jaw fell open with the most gentle of prying, letting the following hearty liquid gather within my mouth. With little encouragement I suckled down, thumb, broth and all. 

  
  
  


I opened my eyes and Hannibal stared back with blood stained irises that appeared fantastically iridescent. He cooed with approval as I savoured more of the soup while the pressure of his thumb remained hooked behind my parted lips. 

  
  
  


"Very good, you are doing well, there we are," He whispered with a nod and the praise fared better than a spoonful of laudanum, serene and heady, filling spaces in my spirit I had long forgotten were missing. 

  
  
  


I consumed the revitalising draught in its entirety and hummed with satisfaction. Instantly, I was relieved of the worst of my terrible aches. My empty stomach was no longer empty and my breathing had calmed significantly. 

  
  
  


"Sleep now," Said Hannibal. He filled my ear with indiscernible murmurs, guiding me into a peaceful slumber.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Will had to be a little bit mean and cold
> 
> Comments appreciated


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Will is still unaware and Hannibal helps

  


In the following days my fever had peaked and subsided, relatively, though never entirely alleviated. I was rendered bedridden and essentially crippled by my body acting against my finite patience. 

  


I wished to feel the west winds through my hair, the solar rays upon my paleness. Of the day I had managed to glimpse, were those through the space between the curtained windows, and my current prospect of stepping towards the doorway, seemed impossible.

  


Alana served my needs dutifully but her efforts had produced little effect. The pattern of events thus far should have alarmed me but I was not above weakness in seeking relief. My suspicions notwithstanding, I had begun to rely on Hannibal for my momentary cure against the mysterious ailment that had plagued me. 

  
  


By nightfall I would send away a worried Alana, in a manner most remorseful, for I felt I was committing a grave sin. I waited in my bedroom chamber, carelessly and expectantly for Hannibal to arrive and bestow upon me the remedy that curtailed my intimate affliction. Each night I threw caution to the wind, accepting Hannibal's company, letting the servant soothe me in a way that only he could.

  


What the servant and I had shared in these poorly lit moments, I could scarcely recall as I was trapped within the throes of something wild. It may have been a memory, or mere indulgent dreams, but I was certain the two had begun to blur. My very bones had remembered a tenderness so great they risk shattering beneath my skin. Hannibal uttered words of praise like honey and I took it from the palms of his hands. 

  


  


On the last night before my husband’s return, my foggy mind had allayed enough for me to speak with conviction. My blankets were cast aside and what remained between myself and my nightly visitor was the thin white fabric of my shirt. Hannibal had his hands freely on my person, light touches that skimmed my collar, my chest, my waist, jeopardising what little sense I had. 

  
  
  


“You reveal yourself and cast me as your prey, it is in your eyes, Mr. Lecter." I accused knowingly, my voice but a whisper, my throat strained from disuse. 

  
  


"You are my husband's servant but you view him beneath you," My faculties may have been its farthest from sane. The words came unbidden, tumbling freely from my mouth. 

  
  


"You share eyes with nobility yet your clothes are ill fitting of your title," I laid the implication thickly for there were things I had seen of the servant that demanded close inspection.

  
  


Hannibal was no Englishman, his accent indicated as much, though it seeped heavily with a lilt of an Alpha who had been well educated. I observed how he carried himself in a way that emmenated an air of sharp intelligence, and when galvanised, was fine tuned to control the environment to Machiavellian success. Perhaps I was bitterly envious, or perhaps I wanted him to know I could read the psychology of the individual to rival his own devious cunning. Perhaps, secretly, I wanted to prove my worth, that I was no ordinary Omega whose character had been reared into naiveté. 

  
  
  


Hannibal moved his hand away and it felt like abandonment, he chuckled warmly and countered my comments. "Would it please you for me to be your servant instead?," He tilted his head with a ghost of a smile that fluttered briefly upon his lips. "So that I may conduct myself more honestly." 

  
  
  


"You deflect Mr. Lecter, which is a sign of confirmation as any,"

  
  


"You see me quite well do you?" 

  
  


"Well enough,"

  
  


"But do you see yourself?" 

  
  


I watched him, and allowed myself a scrupulous survey of his physical character. Olive tanned skin. A face carved from the highest grade marble. Shapely plump lips that would let peek uniquely sharp teeth. Deep set eyes like Ruby fixtures and cheekbones so sharp it would cut my hand. I was struck by how handsome he was. The Alpha was intimidating as he was captivating. 

  
  
  


I frowned, a twitching scowl that conveyed my indignation. "You are no servant in any sense of the word, you only serve yourself--" Strangled were my next few words when I felt a sudden wetness emanate from below my waist. Terror must have filled my expression, my breath had hitched to a stuttered gasp and I was rigid with embarrassment. 

  
  
  


Hannibal scented the air with a flare of his nostrils and the servant's eyes widened. I remembered his acute sense of smell and I dreaded its implications. 

  
  
  


"I would gladly serve you, if you ask me," He said in a low tone. 

  
  
  


I did not notice how close he was, and it had been my mistake. Hannibal hovered above me, his breath caressing my lips, while I, on the bed, laid in unguarded repose. I swallowed audibly, his scent was so potent Venus herself would offer up her honeypot. I resisted as best I could, but I was no god.

  
  


I clambered to shield my stimulated sex, squeezing tight my stout member with both hands in an attempt to cover its obvious pulsing ache away from view. My barren sap leaked through the thin material and Hannibal watched the darkened patch with a steady gaze. His stance reminded me of a beast the moment before it pounced, where prey is caught unawares and has little chance of escape. He drifted lower until he faced my sheeted prick and I wondered if perhaps I had yielded my own chance of escape by design, irresponsibly letting its value expire unwanted and ignored. 

  
  
  


Hannibal darted forth his tongue, a quiet flick that titillated my carnal interests. I pulled a faltering lungful like I had ran for miles, my heart surging, its rapid beat not unlike the force of heavy machinery. He continued his gentle flicks, patient but waiting. I grunted with every touch and moaned when every lick was hindered by the soiled fabric still wrapped around my impatient steed. I deemed my shirt a cumbersome barrier and I wished it gone from my sight, ripped for all I cared, burnt and destroyed and buried where no soul would ever find it.

  
  
  


I had reached a precarious point in which good advice and sensibility would fail to divert my following action. I lifted my soaking shirt and bared my impure want for the servant to fathom its weeping state. 

  
  
  


Hannibal glanced at me, and I saw no cruelty there. He exhibited a limitless hunger which I understood to be a perfect reflection of my own. I nodded my consent and he licked his lips. 

  
  
  


Unlike fire I needn't water to simmer my heat. I discovered my flames ached for a temperature to match its own and Hannibal provided such cure in the form of his wet lips and searing pocket of his mouth. Without hesitation I was sensually devoured within a moistened hotness, my rigid flesh tasted so thoroughly from the roots of my fine thatched curls, up along my column, to the sensitive peak of my dripping crown. My hands shot forward landing amongst Hannibal's medley of coloured strands and I dug my claws viciously into the soft of his scalp. He hissed in response but my fists held tight, pulling firm whenever pleasure affected me so greatly I needed a release of less raucous quality. I endeavoured with utmost care to muffle my mewls and whines while Hannibal continued with rigorous rhythm. 

  


Logic had broken through my padlocked doors, destroying any hope of its necessary resurrection. It had fled long before I had noticed, unreachable in the distance like a stallion trained for victory. My consciousness had condemned my venereal pleasure yet my hips rebelled, bucking into Hannibal's supple mouth with a singular focus.

  


I should have declared some ounce of hesitation, insisted he cease his devilish conduct, turned away and reprimanded the servant severely. I should have said "enough", cried with hoarse vehemence "this is lunacy!". But what if Hannibal had listened? What if he had fulfilled my order with utmost deference? I could not bear the thought or entertain its possibility and instead I whimpered, I begged, I needed "more, more,". 

  
  


Hannibal had skilfully wound me to my last length of ribbon. My release sat coiled, deep within the pits of my battered loins, as ready as a loaded cannon stationed at a gun port. I watched his raw plump lips seal around my Chase while his cheeks hollowed to reveal the shape of his graceful bone structure. His eyes had never left my face and I had known that he knew the precise moment in which the match had been lit. I panted harshly, exhaling gales of air through my nose and slackened maw. My breath increased with tempo until, finally, I uttered a last weak gasp of a man at his deathbed. My body curled unto itself, towards my centre, muscles as stiff as stone as my seed tore free from my body with a violent force. 

  
  


I saw the moment my essence had filled his mouth and relished in the fact that not a single drop was wasted. I was enthralled by the motion of his throat as a part of me entered his belly where it would remain forever. He gently cleansed my withered flesh, lavishing attention upon it until all evidence was claimed for himself alone to savour. He fixed my shirt to its rightful state and smiled warmly. I was stunned, devastated, and I could only imagine how dishevelled I looked. My skin must have flushed vermilion, my hair in disarray with locks fasted to my temple by a considerable amount of perspiration. 

  
  


Slowly, I began cool and thoughts of consequences filtered through my mind with terrific terror. Satisfaction, joy, fear and loathing swelled like clouds that promised thunder and storm. 

  
  


Hannibal's eyes darted towards my lips. "You are bleeding," He remarked serenely. I placed a finger where my skin had split and tasted a bead of copper. I must have bitten them fiercely while I had attempted to remain silent. 

  
  


"Perhaps you should tend to the matter," I suggested. 

  
  


Hannibal blinked, as though he had not expected it, as though this was the single outcome he was certain was improbable. My sense of superiority masked my uncertainty, bolstering my false confidence to control the situation. 

  
  


"It would be my pleasure," He whispered and I was taken aback in turn. Hannibal leaned forward and I waited for a crashing wave yet what I received instead was a blessed rain. Tentatively, He held my face and shifted ever closer.

  
  
  


Our noses brushed softly against one another like a warm greeting, ‘hello’ it said before our lips became deeply acquainted. Hannibal felt like silk and tasted of me, spiced with the tang of my blood and layered by an indescribable concentrate that I learned was entirely him. We separated and converged, again and again, exchanging saliva like a tête-à-tête. 

  
  
  


At this moment Miss Bloom had barged through the door, gasping in shock at the scene before her. Immediately, Hannibal and I broke apart, disentangling from our connected intimacy.


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Will has an ally

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sorry for the update i'm slow as hell :(

.

.

.

  
  


I had found myself effectively frozen in place before a magistrate and court and without a doubt guilty of the charges accused. 

  
  
  


"H-Hannibal!" Miss Bloom swayed with anxious energy. "W-what did you do? Why are you here at such a late hour...". Miss bloom was a brave woman and she did not allow herself to be blind, with a confident step she hastily came to me and swept my blanket over to return my modesty. 

  
  
  


Hannibal brushed neat his wayward hair and excused himself without momentary acknowledgment of his partner in crime. At his callous display my heart was squeezed in a piercing blow. My throat had tightened, my chest gouged like a hollow cavity. Unashamedly, Hannibal stepped past her, thus leaving me alone with a bereft Alana. 

  
  
  
  


"I-I, Miss Bloom," I attempted to calm the haunted maid. "Alana--" 

  
  
  


"Oh Master Will," She closed the door and locked it. "Did I not say for you to call on me?" 

  
  
  


From the moment Hannibal had left the room its atmosphere had degraded sharply, decaying within my lungs an inhospitable vapour. Panic settled like the growing tide, a subversive change in the once calm waters. 

  
  


"--I apologise for the state in which you found me in but, I say, what is the meaning of all this? Why did you lock the door?" I gritted my teeth, my eyes glancing rapidly towards the barred entryway and Alana with a nervous anguish. Now with Hannibal away my headache had sought to return with a fervent strength. "He was helping me--" 

  
  
  


"Helping you?"

  
  
  


"Y-es--" 

  
  
  


"You believe that, m'lord?" 

  
  
  
  


I winced. "Well, yes, I feel much better when he is near--"

  
  
  
  


She knelt on the floor beside my bed and cupped my strained fist, casting a look of utter sorrow. I hated it with a mighty aversion. How dare she look at me that way? Bristling, I pulled away but Alana caught my hand and held firm. 

  
  
  


"Dear god--" I threw my head back against my pillow and grunted, mewled, whimpered with sorrowful desperation, "Call Hannibal back, call him back, call him back,  _ Alana _ ." I chanted repeatedly. I behaved with a mania suggesting of an uncouth drugger the moment his vices were taken away. How could I have made my request more reasonable? These were unreasonable demands born of an unreasonable fate. Even my dignity had vanished as I thrashed in a paroxysm of convulsions. " _ Hannibal!-- _ " 

  
  


"I can't do that m'lord, I'm terribly sorry m'lord," Alana said quietly and it was paltry comfort. "Let the pain pass through m'lord, I won't leave," She beseeched as she shook her head. “I know the last day to be worst than the pits of hell, especially the very first,” 

  
  
  


Something was terribly wrong with my body, the pain was affecting so greatly my mind was left in ruins following its path. One moment ago I was floating above the clouds amongst faceless seraphs and in the next instance thrown back down to earth, forgotten were the ways in which I could walk or sought to contain myself. "W-hat is happening!?" I barked, bitterness and anger flowing freely. "I  _ demand _ you tell me what you know--" 

  
  
  
  


“M’lord, you have entered your Oestrus," She murmured. 

  
  
  
  


"What--" Her answer sunk into my chest a suffocating sensation of dread. How had I been so ignorant? I would have welcomed the pox with open arms but an Oestrus? That was a far more a diresome sentence indeed. I knew what that entailed for an Omega like myself, it meant that I had bloomed, that I had ripened and was ready to carry. I realise now that I had been fortunate thus far due to my underdeveloped biology, the only factor, it seemed, preserving my womb from my husband's odious purposes. But now, it was clear that that would no longer be the case and I swallowed the truth like a bitter tincture. 

  
  


I took her forearm in my hand, clutching for some semblance of stability and trembled bodily. "Y-you mustn't tell," I mumbled. "Oh, You mustn't Alana--"

  
  


"I will do no such thing m'lord," The maid merely looked at me and caressed my back. "I will be sure to protect you from those vile Alphas." 

  
  


.

.

.

  
  


It is often that when one commits a sin that one would think of god or perhaps the guile of the devil. But the sinner unknowingly while in pursuit of forgiveness from the Lord or in blame of a fiendish demon overlooks the capacity of the sinner himself to enact such blasphemy. These revelations had not yet enlightened my mind, and as such I was determined to obstinately identify the role of my Villain to the specious image of the Alpha servant. 

  
  


The new day had announced my release, I had broken through the murky surface of the river Thames. I was no longer in pain, my Oestrus had passed and I breathed a grateful sigh. Tentatively, I stood, feeling the affects of my boney bedridden knees knocking together as I clambered towards the dresser mirror. 

  
  
  


My reflection was woefully ragged but I had not changed as much as I thought I would. I expected a stronger version to meet me, forged by experience, hardened by a true coming of age, not a doe eyed Omega. My eyes were still moist and round, my lashes thick and matted, my collarbone jutting out like the frame of a Nightingale. 

  
  
  


From my infancy I had been made aware of my pronounced beauty, a picture of docility formed by the sweetly words of others that I could hardly digest. I was fond of animals and indulged my mother and father without complaint, the accounts of which only solidified my notoriety as an ideal Omega. But now as I rubbed my troublesome face, I felt an overwhelming emotion of spite towards my reflection, an oppositional rendering of Narcissus as he looked into his cursed pool. I had an acrimonious desire to to strike the mirror, to destroy the image before me, but halted the weapon of my fist when the red cut upon the pout of my bottom lip, bright and raw, drew my attention towards it. I pressed my finger in as discountenance bubbled in my chest. I had lost them, I thought, I had lost my lips. 

  
  
  
  


"Master Will, I did not know you were awake," Hannibal had shattered my silence calmly, he entered the room and shut the door. "Some tea for you sir?" He said as he placed the tray down. Hannibal was dressed primly, a dark hued suit bounding his physique as a distraction from his otherwise commanding and pequliar presence. His hair was impeccably combed since the servant was never one to wear a wig. It was fairly long and tied behind with a black ribbon. I registered the difference in our poise and I narrowed my stare. He was held together while I lacked any finesse.

  
  


I bared my teeth, and I may have growled. He had known, I thought. Mustering my strength forthwith, I cornered the servant against the wall. Omegas were not known to display action in matters of irascibility, but certain ramifications had thinned my restraint. I had no qualms in receiving my punishment, but the sake of my insincere marriage was not mine alone, due to the nature of my arrangement, the fate of my mother was also my responsibility. Mother would be upset, she would be sad, for she believed she had given away my hand for the betterment of my life. She had sold me with good intentions and I was only willing to protect her and her belief. 

  
  


Unsurprised, Hannibal merely raised an eyebrow as I wrapped my fingers around his clean cravat. This Alpha had made me a grovelling fool, I fumed, as a tremor traveled through my spine. Today my awareness had returned to shed light upon my wayward compass. I may be Lord Dimmond's toy, I thought, but that was by a choice I had come to accept, I did not, however, agree to be played by another's hand. 

  
  
  


“Do you wish destruction for me?” I hissed dangerously. "Your games. I will not be apart of it any longer, Mr. Lecter."

  
  
  


"Hannibal," 

  
  
  


"--I beg your pardon?" 

  
  
  


"I believe you called me Hannibal," He said, and after a beat, "Last night..." 

  
  
  


There was a shimmer in Hannibal's eyes that told me he enjoyed this show of threatening violence. Even now, it seemed, he was happy to pull my strings. 

  
  
  


"What are you intentions,  _ Hannibal? _ " I let his name roll off my tongue, lacking the venom I intended as it settled like sweet wine. I paused to let the wine spoil and spat poison when I aimed my next row of words to sting. "When your master hears one word of your dishonorable treatment of his Omega spouse you will find yourself on the streets." 

  
  
  


“Dimmond will not hear a word from either one of us, of that, I can be sure, since it is in both our interests. Quid pro quo?” Hannibal smiled in return, patient like a man of god and just as conniving. "You may want to wear your robe, Master Will," He said, roaming those maroon gems up and down my figure. 

  
  
  


There was a flurry of movement from down the hall and my head snapped towards the sound. It was Alana, reaching the front door to promptly greet entry inside. 

  
  
  


I was lost for a moment as I pressed myself against the solid figure of the servant. It was frightening how easily it was that I modeled for his form.

  
  
  


"I believe the master of the house has arrived," Hannibal informed me. 

  
  
  


"Stay away from me," I whispered.

  
  
  


Hannibal placed his hand over mine and removed all tension in my fiery grip. Our eyes met and he spoke so quietly I may have imagined his fragile reply. "Do you believe I have not tried?" 

  
  
  


I heard steady steps, and my husband's voice. "So where is my Omega? Is he well?" He called, the lofty sound dampened by the wall.

  
  
  


Following closely were Alana's rapid fluttering feet. "Yes, m'lord, Master Will had a cold, just a cold, barely even m'lord--" Alana interjected.

  
  
  


Hastily I snatched at my Banyan left hung upon a sitting chair from days ago. The door swung open and Alana glanced a furtive look towards me. Lord Dimmond brushed past her with his three sided hat beneath his arm and entered the room with a dramatic flair of self importance. 

  
  
  


I had removed myself far from Hannibal without a hint to show of our current confrontational engagement. "L-lord Dimmond," I bowed.

  
  
  


My husband assessed me doubtfully. "Good god! He's as pale as a ghost! He doesn't have the pox does he? That would be a waste," He pointed a finger towards my direction and looked at Alana and Hannibal for confirmation. 

  
  
  


"He has the natural complexion of porcelain, m'lord, every Omega in London would be envious!" Alana stepped forward taking the handed hat of her master. "It was just a cold m'lord, barely, mild in fact--" 

  
  
  


"Shall I send for a doctor?" My husband pouted, arms bent to rest on his hips. “Perhaps he’s afflicted by Consumption? Though it is a flattering malady--” 

  
  
  


"A doctor? No, no m'lord, no need for all that, Master Will is spritely today isn't that right, Hannibal?" Alana blinked several times with a strained smile. 

  
  
  


"Of course, he has sprung from bed quite aggressively this morning, youth is not wasted on Master Will in the slightest. " 

  
  
  
  


I threw Hannibal a hardened glace. "Y-es, I planned to take a stroll at the Park today," I added. "The weather is fine, I would not protest some wonderful sunshine," 

  
  
  
  


"Very well, I will allow it. Miss Bloom will accompany you. Now, Hannibal there are some accounts I need you to look over--" Lord Dimmond raised a brow at me and then swiftly stepped towards me. Before I could gather the meaning of his actions he struck fast and gripped my face with his hand. Roughly, my cheeks were pressed between his thumb and fingers, tightening considerably with a painful strength. "What happened to your lip?" 

  
  
  
  


"I--" 

  
  
  
  


"Dry from the fever m'lord--" Alana began.

  
  
  
  


"Silence," Lord Dimmond held up his hand, stilling the air in the room to a suffocating staleness. "What happened to your lips, Omega?" He smiled before he reached behind and cupped my head to shake the reason out of me. I remained silent and he began to capture strands of my hair to tug, wrenching my head until was my neck was stretched to expose the soft of my throat. His face was mere inches from mine and I assumed my husband meant to intimidate me. I closed my eyes and I let him believe he had been successful, while inwardly the sensation of fear I had expected to arise had failed to emerge. 

  
  
  


My husband tutted as he manipulated my head from side to side, inspecting with a hum before he scented audibly at my jugular. "You smell like nothing," He seemed disgusted by my abnormality. "If it were not for your pretty face how would I know you to be an Omega? Hm? Do not blemish your only worth." 

  
  
  
  


Briefly, I spied as Hannibal frowned, he was livid, he was murderous, and I enjoyed the scene as he concealed the unraveled threads. How sorely I wanted to leer. 

  
  
  
  


The servant cleared his throat. "The accounts, sir?" 

  
  
  
  


Lord Dimmond tilted his head over his shoulder and released me not unlike he would to a fox playing dead. I staggered back and rubbed my jaw. I was glad to be free from his clutches but I wondered if he were free from mine. I shook such thoughts away and lowered my shoulders like a tractable spouse. 

  
  
  
  


"Oh right, the accounts, of course," Lord Dimmond turned as rapidly as the appearance of his joyful spirit. He patted Hannibal on the chest as he left the room. "Good man," He said before disappearing out of sight. 

  
  
  
  


I saw as Alana sighed with relief and exhaustion. Promptly, Hannibal went to to follow my husband, but before he left, with his back turned he paused for a moment. Perhaps he contemplated to look at me but then thought better of it. He will never have the chance to peer at me again, I thought coldly. 

  
  
  


That night my bedroom chamber remained shut.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I gonna have to change POVs for the story in the next chapters, not sure who tho

**Author's Note:**

> [My Twitter](https://twitter.com/ban_ban)


End file.
